Mafia Casanova

He smiled.

“What else has Uncle Romeo told you?” I searched for answers I would probably never get, but I craved the information. Or maybe I just needed to know who I was to him, not that it would change anything. He gave me away, which means even if he could have me—he wouldn’t attempt it.

“That you love with all your heart, but I already knew that one because Daddy said it too.”

I winced. I couldn’t help it.

“Do you miss him, Mama?”

I nodded, unable to form the words to lie to him. Visions of Tristian holding that gun, of him claiming me when I asked for him to love me filled my head to the point of dizziness.

“Do you think he misses us?”

“Of course. He misses you the most, though.”

His eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“I’m your mom; I know everything.”

“Do you think Daddy is back to being himself in Heaven?”

I parked the car, waiting for the lane to begin again as my brain whirled with questions. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy. Do you think he’s himself with God?” Such an innocent question, such a difficult answer. How did he even notice the slow shift Tristian had taken? It was so subtle even I had trouble digesting it.

“Naz.” I looked over at him. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Well… Daddy was different. He changed a lot.” He shrugged. “He didn’t want to play with me that much, and when he was home, he was always so grumpy. And he yelled at you a lot. I don’t know why. You were always a good mama. Uncle Romeo says that he was stressed, and sometimes that changes people.”

I jerked back, never expecting him to share that.

“Naz, why haven’t you ever said something to me before?” My heart cracked in my chest. I’d failed as a mom, hadn’t I? This entire time I thought I was shielding Naz; instead, he felt and saw everything.

“About Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t want to make you sad. Your eyes were glossy a lot with Daddy, so I didn’t want to make you sadder. I’m a good boy, right?”

“Always, baby.” I got teary-eyed; there was no helping that either. “Your daddy didn’t make me sad.”

“No?”

“No, bud.”

“Okay. That makes me happy because I miss him a lot. I hope he doesn’t forget about me.”

“That could never happen. You’re too unforgettable.”

His eyes lit up. “That’s what Uncle Romeo said too, Mama.”

Of course, Romeo said that, and I knew in my soul he meant it. “See… everyone knows.”

He smiled wide, the worry residing from his gaze.

“You have a good day at school, okay?”

“I will, Mama. You have a good day too.”

I ruffled up his hair, pulling my car up to the teacher who was on car duty that morning. She opened the door, and Naz jumped out as happy as could be. He waved back and was on his way, running toward his friends who’d been waiting for him.

I sat there in a haze for a few seconds until the blare of the horn honking behind me brought me back to the present. Still mulling over my conversation with Naz, I pulled into traffic shaking my head.

How long had Naz noticed a change in Tristian’s personality?

I thought I was doing a great job at hiding the truth from him, now I felt as though I had failed him as well. The guilt consumed my core while I drove out of the school parking lot. Trying to control the shame I was suddenly overwhelmed with.

When my phone rang, I reached into my purse and answered it. “Hello.”

“We need to talk, Eden. Can you come to my office?”

“Hi to you too, Dad.”

“It’s important.”

“I’m on my way.” I sighed at his seriousness.

He didn’t respond; he just hung up. Which was weird for my father; he was never short with me like that. Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into his driveway, walking into his office.

“What’s with the short phone call?” I questioned when I saw him sitting behind his desk with an expression I couldn’t place.

He nodded to the chair in front of his desk, and I sat in it. “You’re freaking me out; what’s up?”

“We’re dropping the case for Tristian’s death, and we won’t be pursuing his killer.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me, Eden.”

“Not correctly. I think you just told me you’re not looking for my husband’s killer anymore.”

“I did.”

“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “Why not?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“None of my concern?” I shot up. “How is my husband’s death not my concern?”

“Eden, calm down.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!”

“There is nothing to tell you. It’s business.” He was so stoic, like we were talking about dinner, not death.

I pushed him further. “So, his death is related to business then?”

“I didn’t say that,” he snapped.

I put my hands on my hips. “Yeah, you did.”